


Chocolate Chips

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Baking, Bucky Barnes and the 21st Century, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5467805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<i>Her house smelt like vanilla too, as well as herbs Bucky couldn't name. She was young, late twenties at most. She knew too much, said HYDRA. Kill her, they said. At whatever cost. So he did. </i>"</p><p>In which a simple baking session takes a turn for the worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate Chips

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at one in the morning so forgive me if I made any mistakes oops
> 
> Set sometime after civil war, early in Bucky's recovery.

"Buck?" 

Steve peeks into the living room from the kitchen. The stereo plays quietly in the background and Bucky can hear the low hum of the oven as it heats up. He sits up, pausing the television programme he's watching, and glances over his shoulder at Steve.

"You don't have to," Steve begins, painfully hesitant, "but d'you wanna help me bake some cookies? They're for Tony's Christmas party."

To Steve's obvious surprise, Bucky nods. "Sure," he says, and yawns as he gets up. A bright smile spreads across Steve's face, and he leans in to kiss the side of Bucky's head. Bucky feels his cheeks grow hot and he looks down. He does appreciate the gesture, but it's just not what he's used to. Kindness.

Bucky takes a deep breath as he enters the kitchen. The smell of many different ingredients greet him, though the strongest is vanilla. He bites his lip. 

Vanilla. 

_Her house smelt like vanilla too, as well as a herbs Bucky couldn't name. She was young, late twenties at most. She knew too much, said HYDRA. Kill her, they said. At whatever cost. So he did._

Bucky clears his throat, biting his tongue hard to try and forget the memory. Steve turns to him.

"Do we...have to use vanilla? I don't really like it," he manages, meeting Steve's eyes for a moment before looking away as if he expects anger. 

Steve frowns for a brief moment. "I thought you loved vanilla. I mean, sure, we can leave it out."

Bucky smiles for a second and steps a little closer to Steve. "What first?" he asks. He surveys the various ingredients set out on the counter - flour, butter, eggs, milk, and sugar. Steve puts the vanilla back in the top cupboard and sets the measuring cup in front of Bucky.

"Do two cups of flour," he says. "Straight into the bowl."

Bucky does as Steve instructs him, giving his full attention to the task at hand. He's careful not to spill any on the counter. After all, Steve might get angry if he makes a mess. On the second cup, though, a little of the flour puffs up out of the bowl as he tips it in. Bucky's eyes snap up to Steve, and he feels his heart pounding.

"I didn't mean to," he says weakly. 

Steve looks as if he's a puppy that's been kicked. Bucky holds his breath. 

"Buck, it's just flour. It's fine, okay?" Steve says. Bucky lets out the breath, but closes his eyes for a moment to readjust himself. That was _stupid_. Of course Steve wouldn't get angry. He's - well, Steve. Not HYDRA. 

Bucky puts the cup down and turns to Steve with what he hopes is an eager expression. The last thing he wants is to look uninterested, or God forbid, scared. He can't let Steve down, not when Steve's so proud of how far he's come already with his recovery. He can't lose it all over _cookies._

Steve does the next part, and Bucky watches as he combines the butter and sugar in a new bowl until it's fluffy. He lets Bucky taste a little, and Bucky hums in appreciation, eyes closing as he licks the mixture off his finger. It's already perfect. Steve is perfect.

Next up are the eggs. Bucky's keen to do these. He's watched a lot of cooking shows in the time he's been back, and it's oddly satisfying to watch the eggs break, to hear the light crack off the shell against the bowl. 

He closes his flesh hand around the first egg and taps it against the bowl, gauging how much pressure is he'll need to break it. Then he hits it harder, and it smashes with a crack, a sound that instantly takes him back.

_Back thirty years ago. He's on a mission and it's dark, the stars drowned out by the city pollution. He's been tracking his target for an hour now, and he's ready to strike. The asset descends from the rooftop in silence and grabs the man, pulling him into a back alley. He wrestles his target to the ground and holds a gun to his head, but then stops. A gunshot would be too loud. Draw too much attention. Instead, he grabs the target's head and in one clean move, snaps it back. There's a sickening crack as bones break and the man falls limp, and the asset gets up to-_

"Bucky?" 

Bucky shakes his head with vigour. Steve. The kitchen. The music in the background. It all rushes back and Bucky blinks at Steve in confusion. What just happened? He's shaking a little, but it's not noticeable. 

"You okay?" Steve's saying. Bucky, realising he's scowling, relaxes his face and forces a weak smile. 

"I'm fine, Stevie."

Most of the egg got into the bowl, but there's some yolk flecked on Bucky's wrists. Steve notices, and gently wipes it off with a tissue. "There," he murmurs, "I'll do the other egg, okay?"

That's fine with Bucky.

Oddly, Steve cracking the egg doesn't trigger anything in Bucky. He's not sure why. Perhaps he's just a bad person. Perhaps he deserves this, to be always taunted by memories of death, death, and more death, even during otherwise innocent activities. 

He pushes the thoughts away. No. If he were bad, surely Steve wouldn't want him? Of course not. It's a small thing, but it reassures Bucky. It really wasn't his fault, if Steve thinks so. He feels bad, though, lying to Steve when it's clear he's so worried about him. It's not fair on Steve to keep things from him, especially things like this, after all he's done for Bucky.

So Bucky decides to tell him. He's whisking the egg into the butter and sugar, tongue sticking out a little, a small frown on his face. Bucky sighs as his chest swells with love. He _loves_ Steve. Loves him _so much._ And he hates to feel like a burden, but Steve needs to know that the flashbacks are getting worse, everything's getting worse.

"Steve."

Steve puts the whisk down and faces Bucky, eyes bright. 

"I - I had a flashback. Just now, the egg - it sounded like bones breaking, and I remembered something. A mission," Bucky mumbles, not daring to meet Steve's eyes. He jumps when the solid warmth of Steve's hand lands on his shoulder, and looks up to see Steve smiling. It's a sad, quiet sort of smile, but Bucky returns it as best he can.

"You're so brave, Bucky" he sighs. "Are they getting worse again? I heard you talking in your sleep the other night." Steve's face is full of concern. Bucky's eyes are brimming with tears ,threatening to spill over. This isn't fair. Why him? Of all the people, what did he do that was so bad to justify what HYDRA did to him? His heart aches, and he falls forward into Steve's arms. 

Steve hugs him tight, and Bucky relaxes as he feels Steve's strong arms around him. He breaths in Steve's familiar scent, eyes closing. Safe. Safe. He's safe. 

When they break apart Bucky feels refreshed in a way, and a good deal calmer. He breaths in deeply, smiling genuinely, warmly, at Steve. Steve wipes away the rest of Bucky's tears with a damp cloth, and Bucky tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. He glances at the forgotten cookie dough.

"Can we get on with this?" he asks, nodding at the bowl. He still feels a little shaken, sure, but it's getting less by the second. He can breathe, and the world is bright and clear and _now_ again. Steve looks a tad surprised, but nods amiably. "Of course."

Bucky leans against the counter, stealing a little of the mixture. "I was thinkin'," he murmurs, looking up at Steve with wide eyes. "We should add chocolate chips."

Steve lets out a light chuckle.

"Back to your old self, I see," he remarks. "Whatever you want, Buck."

So Bucky grabs the chocolate chips and tips them in - all of them. And perhaps that was a little too many, but hey, it's like Steve said. He can do what he wants, and no-one can stop him. Not HYDRA. Not anyone. For the first time in over seventy years he's in control. And it's okay if he slips up sometimes. Steve's got his back.


End file.
